Between Us
by anit0523
Summary: Kazuho and Yukimi have an argument about Yoite, the aftermath of which causes Kazuho to reflect on her younger days with with her brother, back when she was his only "brat". Written to be platonic, but shippers gon' ship so interpret it in any way you want.


**Between Us****  
**

Kazuho let out a heavy sigh, head hanging lamely against her hand as it supported her face. Looking up after a moment, she let her hands fold over each other on the table and turned toward her brother. They were sitting in some kind of break room on the upper level of the Kairoshu headquarters. It was relatively bare aside from a tiny kitchenette, complete with sink, fridge, microwave, and coffee pot. Hattori had been exiting as she came in to see Yukimi. Though she missed most of their conversation, she had heard enough to discern that she wouldn't like what the chief had to say. Sitting in silence, she wondered how much privacy they truly had right now. A moment more passed before Kazuho finally spoke.

"What are you going to do?" she asked softly. Yukimi seemed annoyed with the question.

"You heard what I told him," Yukimi said, to which Kazuho raised an eyebrow. He was a bit louder than she would have liked and there was a hint of defensiveness in his tone that betrayed his ruse of nonchalance. Yes, she had heard what Yukimi told the chief, but that didn't make her any less suspicious. Yukimi had agreed with the chief, saying that he would do whatever was needed without question. It seemed peculiar to her. Kazuho also noted that he purposely did not verbalize the topic at hand: Yoite. She knew better than to trust her brother completely right now. She suspected that he may be questioning his loyalties, if only a little bit.

It wasn't that Yukimi lied often. It wasn't even that he was a bad liar. Kazuho just knew how to spot deceit in his eyes. She had seen him use it many times to quell the drunken wrath of their father. Conditioned from a young age to read him, she saw when he was serious and when he planned to fake an excuse later. In this case the truth was not so clear and it made her nervous. Defying chief was not the same as defying Dad. The lies Yukimi told had always been to protect her, but this time it was different.

"You can't save him, you know," Kazuho said doing her best to convey the deliberate hush in her voice. Her eyes cast themselves downward. Yukimi furrowed his brow before snapping back at her.

"Why the hell not?" His voice was more discreet this time, but still not quite as low as Kazuho would have liked.

"You and I both know that he's going to die anyway."

That stopped both of them. Yukimi leaned against the table with a dejected grumble and Kazuho regretted mentioning it immediately. Of course they knew. How could they not know when the boy was quite obviously weakening every day? What they didn't know was why he suddenly ran off with that kid from Banten. What was he after if not to save his own life? It was strange.

Then again, everything seemed to be getting stranger to her. There was no one more loyal to the boss than Yukimi, and yet it seemed that he was now having second thoughts. She knew it was true even if he wouldn't admit it. On top of that, it used to always be so easy for the two of them to talk, but lately Yukimi had been distant. Not physically, of course, but mentally he seemed distracted. She feared that perhaps he was hiding things from her too.

At a loss for anything more to say, Kazuho stood and walked over to the sink. There was a bag of coffee grounds on the counter, so she busied herself with making a pot. Despite how much time had passed, Kazuho couldn't help but remember a time where they were a stereotypical unit. Always together, she and her brother survived their journey into adulthood somehow by clinging to one another. Things that parents did, they would do for each other. They were close in age, so it wasn't too hard to work together on the same level. Still, as the older of the two, Yukimi occasionally found himself playing mister mom junior. Nowadays, Yukimi wasn't quick to brag about his talent with a hairbrush or his sudden bouts of domestic prowess, but Kazuho still remembered.

She recalled herself a little more than a few years ago with her hair down and her apron on. She was making some kind of dinner for the two of them as a younger Yukimi webbed one of her hair ties around his fingers and asked her about school. He alternated between stretching and releasing the elastic band as he listened to her answer. He was always a little sad back then, but they had both been livelier than usual on that particular day. She remembered that their dad was passed out in his chair, so they could move about freely. For them, that was what constituted a good night.

Back then, Yukimi always asked about the daily kinds of things. He always asked about _her_. Why wouldn't he? She was the one and only "brat" he had a claim to back then. Despite the counterfeit annoyance that the word implied, "brat" was a loving term he had used often. After all, a sibling was the only thing that either of them truly had. Now it all seemed so different. They were still close, of course, but something was missing. She knew logically that being in their late twenties with lives of their own had something to do with them growing apart from one another, but on days like today she felt that there was more to it than that.

She interrupted her thoughts for a moment once the coffee had brewed to bring a mug of it to Yukimi. He looked her in the face for a moment before taking the cup from her hands. Sipping lightly at the contents, Yukimi recoiled slightly from the heat. He was paying attention to Kazuho all the while, though he seemed to hope she wouldn't notice. Sitting back down, Kazuho placed her own cup on the table and gazed down into the liquid as she stirred it with a spoon. There was still so much to say, but how could she jeopardize peace? Instead she lifted the mug to her lips and took a drink.

"I'm gonna bring him back." Yukimi's voice broke the silence. His tone had eased back into faux disinterest. Kazuho wasn't sure that she liked the answer.

"And then what?" she asked him before finishing off the contents of her mug. Yukimi averted his gaze and chose not to reply. The unspoken half of the question lingered. _Will you hand him over to the chief?_

Yukimi let out a sigh and locked eyes with his sister. His silence led to more questions than answers and Kazuho felt her expression fall. She gritted her teeth and slammed her mug back onto the table.

"Damn it, Yukimi!" she spat, irritation evident in her voice. "Don't do this. We've finally gotten somewhere!" _Out of that hellhole of a house._

"Look, I'm not doing anything—," came his reply, but Kazuho stood and cut him off, hands plastered down on the table.

"Yes you are! Everything we've gained is here and you're ready to just throw it all away." Her eyes stung with looming tears now, but it had to be said. Yukimi had also stood up by then.

"We've worked so hard for this," Kazuho cried. "We've finally found a place where we belong, Yukimi. Don't mess this up for me!" _Don't mess this up for us._

"I didn't _say _I would do anything." The reply was quick and hostile. It meant nothing. Both knew what he had been thinking before. Kazuho groaned with disgust.

"How could you be so irresponsible?" Kazuho met Yukimi's eyes once again. His expression was one of bitterness. He could feel himself raising his voice as he coated his words with poison.

"Maybe I get it from **my father**!"

Yukimi practically shouted the response. Kazuho was taken aback. It was an unexpected blow to say the least. Not wanting to escalate further, she took the opportunity to retreat and sunk back into her chair. The two had never actually fought like this before. At least not about anything that wasn't trivial. Casting her eyes to the table, she asked herself, once again, how she could be so careless as to jeopardize peace. In the corner of her eyes, she saw her brother slump a bit with his hand covering his face as though ashamed. She heard him exhale loudly, unsure of what to do. The conversation wasn't getting far, but it felt too important to leave it as it was.

"Look, Kazuho…" His voice had softened considerably. "It's not like that, okay?"

"Then, what are you planning to do?"

"I don't know yet." Kazuho felt her patience leaving her. Nothing was going to change. After watching his sister falter for a moment, Yukimi stepped over to the table, his keys scraping the surface as he lifted them into his coat pocket. He lowered himself to see her face from her sitting position. Reaching across the table, he tilted her chin up so that their eyes met.

"Don't worry, sis," he said, "I'll take care of it." _Like I always do._

With a curt goodbye, Yukimi saw himself out shortly after.

"Be careful, you idiot," she murmured softly after he had already gone. Kazuho thought that perhaps tomorrow things would be better. If Yukimi hadn't gotten himself killed by then, that is.

When she closed her eyes she still saw visions of her big brother protecting her younger self. He had taught her how to survive in a home where nothing mattered, especially not family, and especially not her. She wouldn't realize for years that Yukimi didn't truly know how either. It was brave of him to act so confident despite nearly always playing it by ear.

She knew, of course, that she was in fact 26 years old and quite capable of caring for herself now. She also knew that today, Miharu and Yoite needed that guidance more than she ever could. She had to admit, it was often nice to have the security of independence. Not needing parents had freed them of their childhood problems. Still, selfish as it may have seemed, she missed depending on her big brother. She missed the initial closeness that adulthood stretched apart. She missed feeling like a priority of his. They were feelings that made his sudden contact feel foreign and uncomfortable, nothing like before. It was almost like he was belittling her by treating her like a kid again. She wanted to snap at his kindness. After all, she was no longer his responsibility—no longer his problem. Where she belonged in relation to him was completely different now.

"I'm _not_ your brat anymore," she had wanted to say when he cupped her chin in his hand, and yet the words seemed to stick in her throat. How could she argue her place with him? Even if she believed the words, she knew they would be painful to say. Exasperated, she let a hand rake itself through her thick blonde hair as she slumped over the table.

"I'm not _your_ brat anymore." The words kept echoing in her head, but when the moment to say them had finally come, she chose not to, faltering as his heart seemed to whisper "you are."

_And always will be._


End file.
